


(Paint My World With) The Colors of Kink

by BlackVelvet42



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alien Sex Toys, Aliens Made Them Do It, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Blindfolds, Bloodplay, Bondage, Boxing, Butt Plugs, Choking, Come Swallowing, Cornporn, Corsetry, D/s, Deepthroating, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Fucking, Feet, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Gags, Glitter, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Holodeck Sex, Holodecks/Holosuites, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober2018, Knifeplay, Leather Kink, Loud Sex, Married Sex, Massage, Mild Painplay, Mind Games, Mirror Sex, Muscles, Nipple Play, Non-Penetrative Sex, Object Insertion, Olfactophilia, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Role Reversal, Roleplay, Romance, Rough Sex, Scars, Seduction, Sex Talk, Sexting, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Sthenolagnia, Strip Tease, Threesome, Till Death Do Us Part, Uniforms, Wall Sex, ass worship, scent, smiles/laughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 12,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/pseuds/BlackVelvet42
Summary: My response to the wonderful Kinktober2018 prompt list.One ficlet a day, all different kinks, all guaranteed J/C smut.





	1. Deep-Throating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Killermanatee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/gifts).



> Thank you Killermanatee, for beta and support, for all your time and energy and encouraging words, but most importantly, for sharing my joy and pain of writing.
> 
>   
> 

* * *

 

He presses into her waiting mouth, carefully easing inside.

The sight of her still strikes him every time, how she lays down on her back, tilting her head over the edge of the bed, licking her lips and smiling as though she is the one receiving, not bestowing, this gift.

He groans as the tip of his cock pushes past the entrance to her throat and her muscles contract reflectively, giving him a delicious squeeze.

For a long time, he refused to take her like this, feeling his pleasure would come at the expense of hers.

Now, he only tries to relax, pulls back and sighs in content as her warm hand reaches to caress his balls and thighs.

He crouches over her body, leans one hand to the bed and fills his other with her breast, then pushes again, watching the veins on her neck bulge like the front of her throat at his size.

Somewhere at the back of his mind still lingers a guilt of getting so unbearably aroused by this act.

Despite the signals they’ve agreed on, the position alone makes her vulnerable, at the mercy of his capability for self-control.

Adding to that submission are the desires stirring within him. Urges dark and raw, to bend her and rule her, primitive needs he doesn’t recognize and would rather ignore.

Repeatedly, she has asked him to come in her mouth, but he’s refused. Afraid he might lose control entirely, not notice her signs, and end up hurting her.

She’s told him she’d like to try, assured him she can do it, and he believes her. She knows her limits well. It’s himself he’s not sure of.

He thrusts into her mouth with increasing force and grips her breasts, his climax building, waiting to burst.

The image plays before him, taunting and teasing. The vision of how he keeps fucking her mouth until the heat from his groin erupts into her throat, the last streaks of cum spilling onto her perfect face and hair.

The ache to make that fantasy real is overwhelming and he needs to bite his tongue and curl his toes into the carpet to find the strength to pull out.

She sucks air into her lungs, face flushed and eyes watering, but her question is there again.

He won’t do it.

Not yet.

 

* * *

 


	2. Ass Worship

* * *

 

Had they designed the uniforms like this on purpose?

Narrow at the waist and hips, loosening over the thighs just enough to give the appearance of formality when, in fact, the whole outfit licked her curves like his tongue would if he only ever got the chance.

Seriously. Had some mastermind in the Starfleet textile department chuckled while programming the pattern, knowing just how ideal the cut was to highlight the shape of the ass?

Maybe she knew it too. Maybe that was why she kept moving to stand in the front of his view, hands on hips or bending over consoles.

Or maybe he’d been going without for far too long.

But, damn, if he’d have the opportunity, how much he would enjoy her behind. He’d grab that magnificent piece of meat and sink his teeth into her flesh. He’d bend her over his knees and smack her pale skin into a crimson shine, decorated with his handprints. He’d bury his mouth between her cheeks and lick her into a quivering mess.

Then he’d push her down to all fours and watch himself sink into her moist depths, grip her hips and fuck her hard, slamming against those gorgeous buttocks again and again until she’d come screaming his name.

If only.

The real irony of their clothes was another thing altogether.

While the uniforms did a wonderful job showing off the perfect body of the captain, they did absolutely nothing to conceal the growing erection of a lustful first officer.

At some point, he would have to learn to remember that.

 

* * *

 


	3. Knife Play

* * *

 

 

The ropes tighten around her body and press her back firmly against the pole. Under the dim lights, he adds a blindfold and steps away silently, leaving her in total darkness.

Shivering at the unknown, she focuses on the wild beat of her heart and the ropes digging into her skin, the only fixed points in her world.

His low voice next to her ear startles her.

“Tell me why you like this, Kathryn.”

Cold metal kisses her cheek and she tenses in anticipation, the script for tonight finally becoming clearer.

He draws the blade down the front of her throat and she swallows against its sharpness. He has left a mark there before, right above her left collarbone, the first and only scar she has ever wanted to keep.

Her satin dress gives way without effort and the sound of the ripping fabric echoes in the quiet. Before he cuts her panties, he lets the knife rest against her hip long enough for her to anticipate the first warm feel of blood.

He enjoys the delay as much as she does, takes pleasure in seeing her uncertainty grow.

Last, he chops away the blindfold and she blinks at the light reflecting from the metal into her eyes.

Each instrument he has used on her has been equipped with unique qualities useful for different purposes, all of which she has become familiar with. This beauty, however, is new to her and he studies her reaction.

The blade curves and forms a perfect half-moon, narrowing to a pointed tip. It is not difficult to imagine the possibilities it offers.

She watches in awe as he slides the sharp edge down her chest and between her breasts, and gasps as a sudden move cuts her.

A single red drop trickles down her skin.

Over time, he has become skilled in this art.

Very skilled.  

“Because it helps me to let go of everything I am outside this room, Chakotay.”

 

* * *

 


	4. Mirror Sex

* * *

 

The mirror had been a wedding gift from B’Elanna and Tom. To Chakotay’s cautious question about such an unusual present, they had simply smiled and answered: “You’ll see.”

Indeed.

At first, the mirror covering the entire ceiling felt much like a third presence in their bedroom. Hovering over their heads, watching them kiss, waiting for their clothes to come off. Invading a sacred, private moment.

Not sure how to act under such observation, she kept her eyes shut and concentrated on his mouth and hands moving down her body.

Then she got a glimpse of herself.

Flat on her back, thighs wide, mouth open in a silent moan as Chakotay’s dark head worked wonders at her core.

She couldn’t stop staring.

Was that how she looked? Was that what Chakotay saw when they made love?

She was utterly beautiful. Her skin was flushed and hair tangled, her nipples erect and lips swollen, her body spread out for him like a feast.

The woman she saw in the ceiling had no resemblance to the sleepy morning image in the bathroom mirror or the formal picture of a Starfleet admiral during the day.

This was a creature of the night, thirsty for her lover’s embrace, greedy in her raw and unhindered passion.

When he moved on top of her, his large form covered her entirely, but like a vine, her legs and arms curled around him, pulling him even closer, urging him forward.

He smiled at her as she continued peeking over his shoulder for the view.

“That good, huh?”

She gazed at him in amazement.

Later, much later, when he too had got the chance to come while watching her ride him in renewed heat, they lay side by side grinning at each other through the mirror.

Coming up with a proper thank you for such a magnificent gift would be a challenge.

 

* * *

 


	5. Feet

* * *

 

Bathing under the moonlight, she always looked so happy.

Content.

Like she had everything she ever needed right there, inside the wooden bathtub his hands had created.

Sometimes she called out to him to share an idea born from her relaxed mind, or he would bring her something to drink while she enjoyed her private luxury.

At the shelter door, he used to pause and stare at the dreamlike sight opening before him.

Her hair was loosely gathered up, a few fallen strands caressing her neck. Droplets of water covered her skin, glimmering in the dim light as she stretched her leg into the air.

Even her feet looked happy. Pink and soft after soaking in the steaming water, resting on the rim in the cooling night air.

One time, in passing, he kissed her big toe. The cutest little big toe he had ever seen.

A spark flashed briefly in her eyes at his small gesture, but she veiled it quickly behind an affectionate smile and pulled her leg back beneath the surface.

He knew her far too well to let the moment pass.

Without a word, he caught her ankle from the water and lifted it firmly back to the edge of the tub. Sliding his hand along the wet skin, he began massaging down her calf and watched how she held her breath.

“You could have just asked for this, Kathryn. I love your feet as much as I love every part of you.”

At the last word, he bent and took her toe into his mouth, curling his tongue around the lavender scented warmth and suckled gently.

Her lips parted with a sound of surprise and delight. Her lids fluttered, then closed as he continued to the next toe. And when he moved on to the other foot, her moans no longer seemed enough to ease the tension, but she sneaked a hand between her thighs.

His heart swelled with joy.

Discovering these tiny, intimate details was a true pleasure, bringing them closer together and deepening their bond.

Later, she described to him that the sensation was much like his mouth on her breasts. Warm and nimble, sending waves of desire into her core, evoking the memory of his lips on her clit.

Turned out that sucking her toes was a sure way to make her forget her bath.

Dripping wet, she took his hand and led him to their bed, once again reminding him of the infinite paths to paradise.

 

* * *

 


	6. Biting

* * *

 

Lingering at the replicator, undecided what she wants, she feels him move to stand behind her. The heat of his body radiates into her, familiar and comforting, even though he doesn’t touch her.

At the first warm breath on her neck, the stress of the day begins to unravel, his lips nibbling away diplomacy and compromise. Not quite enough to forget, but a welcome relaxation nonetheless.

Maybe he senses the remaining tension in her, maybe the act is born from his own needs, but in the midst of the sweet sucking, his teeth grip her skin. Gently at first, tiny bites from her ear down the sensitive nerve endings on side of her neck.

At her shoulder, he bites down harder.

Like a lion to his prey, declaring: ‘You are mine’.

He holds her there, immobilized by that sensation alone, lets the rush of adrenaline flood her veins, waits for her mind to sink deeper into surrender.

Then he unleashes her, retreats and walks silently away, leaving her with a sense of clarity.

What she needs, she will not receive from the replicator.

Obediently, she follows his steps to their bedroom.

 

* * *

 


	7. Aphrodisiacs

* * *

  

“Well, that was louder than usual.”

“Oh, god. Chakotay, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. You boost my reputation.”

“You’re sweet. What exactly was in that bottle?”

“Some local red wine, Tom only said to be careful with it.”

“Damn alien wines. And damn Tom. How’s your back?”

“I don’t think the dermal generator will fix this one, Kathryn.”

“The Doctor will want to know how that happened.”

“We could always say we were playing velocity. Your clit any better?”

“It’s the strangest sensation. I can’t decide whether it’s good or too much.”

“Those were some acrobatics. Didn’t realize you could bend like that.”

“Neither did I. You weren’t too bad yourself. I thought you’d keep going all night.”

“To be honest, that was the wine.”

“It better be. My insides can’t take that kind of pounding regularly.”

“Maybe we’re too old for this.”

“Nah. We just need some practice.”

“Wanna go for another round?”

“Absolutely. Just let’s go see the Doctor first.”

 

* * *

 


	8. Angry Sex

* * *

 

Even in his fury, he is vulnerable.

His anger is passionate, its flames reaching out to her, craving a response.

When he slams her against the wall, pushing the air out of her lungs with the weight of his body, his gaze sweeps over her face, one last time searching for what he hopes to see but is not there.

When he rips off her clothes and voices his disappointment and frustration, she doesn’t resist him or deny his words, but lets them wash over her, cleansing her with the burn of truth.

And when his fingers dig into her flesh, his strong hands lifting and opening her so he can sink into her, she closes her eyes and hides her need.

Through the storm of his pain lashing, tearing, and arousing, she holds on to him. She bites his shoulder in spite and revenge, but conceals her pleasure and comes in silence while he roars and jerks then collapses on her in useless, spent rage.

Her anger is different.

Cold as ice, immovable like mountains, filled with quiet contempt at his pitiful attempt to provoke her, break her.

He should already know she doesn’t break.

Never.

But under his fierce passion, she does melt.

 

* * *

 


	9. Sthenolagnia (Muscle Worship)

* * *

 

The holodeck is dark when she sneaks in.

Dark and quiet, except for the brightly lit boxing ring further away and the sounds of punches delivered and received.

Unnoticed, she follows the familiar trail to the corner where they’ve agreed she can stay, hidden in the shadows to not disturb his concentration.

She knows he comes here to seek balance, a counterweight to fortify the peace he carries with his uniform. But for her, the open brutality in this room serves quite a different need.

The pure masculinity of each move never ceases to entice her, the dance of strength and endurance drawing her into a surreal world of a time long gone.

Round after round, his fists find their target with precision, each hit merciless to both his opponent and himself. Focused and fueled with urges usually kept hidden, sunken into a plane of intuition and raw emotion, he holds back nothing.

Through every step and strike, her eyes are glued to his body, drinking in his glory.

Under his drenched shirt, his back and shoulders ripple with explosive force, his hands like weapons set to kill. Battling through pain, his eyes stay sharp and black, searching for a weakness, the slightest opportunity to rule.

The beauty of him cannot be understood with reason. It is felt, caught in her throat, weighing on her chest, pulsing between her thighs.

When he finishes the last round and his opponent shimmers away, he takes off his shirt and wipes his head, looking spent.

But she knows better.

She comes out of the shadows and crawls under the rope, and although he notices her, he doesn’t speak. Tentatively, she touches his arm and looks up for his permission.

Taking his silence as consent, she begins to caress the muscles pumped hard from the struggle, her fingertips following the veins bulging with life. The image is powerful and fills her every thought, the heady scent of him rendering her dizzy with need.

She presses her mouth to his skin, tastes the salt and sighs with content. Unabashed in her primitive hunger, she draws her tongue up his arm and over his chest, licking away the sweat and the blood that has dripped from the cut on his lip.

His dark eyes follow her and even though the earlier heat is gone, the beast in him still lingers.

When she finally lifts her chin, he grabs her by the neck and pulls her mouth to his. Harsh and demanding, his kisses hold nothing tender or elegant, not that she expects them to.

Without asking, he sheds her clothes and presses her down on her back to the canvas, kneeling between her legs.

He doesn’t bother to arouse her, they both know she’s soaking wet just from looking at him fight.

Pushing his pants down just enough to free his erection, he spreads her thighs wide, covers her fragile body with his, and shoves his cock inside, her cry at the sharp intrusion echoing from the walls.

When he takes her like this, he doesn’t wait for her pleasure, doesn’t care whether she comes. The scene is his, and by willingly entering, she has become his as well.

There are other times for sweet and slow lovemaking, but this is not one of them. And she wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in the world.

Here, he fucks her rough and fast, treats her presence as nothing more than a welcome extension to his favorite program offering him means for release and escape from duty.

She whimpers under his weight and feels his lust grow at her weak voice. Ramming into her without pause, he’s somewhere out of her reach, but still hers to marvel at. She slides her palms over his solid arms, back, and ass, all rushing for completion, and moans at the perfection.

His breathing hitches signaling his nearing climax and she focuses to take in the glorious peak she has come to adore.

With a long groan, he thrusts once, twice more, spills into her with hot, pulsing spurts, shudders at the force of his ecstasy, and collapses on top of her, muttering the first words to her since she arrived, words of love and gratitude.

 

* * *

 


	10. Hair-pulling

* * *

 

From the beginning, she noticed his interest in her hair.

There was nothing exceptional about his curious looks, she’d become accustomed to them over the years. Especially when flowing freely, her long hair was a crown to her femininity drawing plenty of attention from both men and women alike. Secretly, she revelled in that admiration.

On duty, she kept the auburn tresses firmly bound, signaling command and control and a clear boundary between Kathryn and captain. Being the wise man he was, he understood her message.

Whenever she changed to a new style, though, his eyes stayed on her a little longer. He never voiced his thoughts, maybe concluded such comments would be inappropriate. A part of her regretted his silence.

It didn’t take long for her to realize that his interest went beyond simple appreciation of female beauty.

Even a single loose strand on her neck was enough to derail his concentration, pulling his focus repeatedly back to her. His quiet intensity made her shiver, her body knowing before her conscious mind did, what that gaze meant.

The first time he saw her hair down brought the tension between them into flames. Under his burning stare and discreet compliments thinly veiling his desire, she felt sensual and wanted in a way she never had before.

And when the day came to take the long-awaited step forward, he didn’t simply cup her face and pull her into a kiss.

No.

In awe, he reached out and caressed her face like she was sacred to him and, finally free to act on his need, threaded his fingers into her hair, his expression melting into one of deep contentment.

Years later, she reminisced about that innocent beginning.

Years later, when his touch on her neck had become familiar and expected; his nails scraping her scalp a prelude to pleasure; his grip a pain leading to ecstasy. When every twist and pull, shooting through her like lightning, had meant him fucking her to thunderous orgasms so many times that the sensation had been woven into the core of her existence. When they had reached a point where all she needed was his light touch on the back of her head, even when they were in public, to weaken her knees and flood her with arousal.

Only then she understood how much his dark eyes had promised from the first day they met.

 

* * *

 


	11. Object Insertion

* * *

 

“What the hell is this, Chakotay?”

She stared at the yellow object, laying in an elegant black velvet box decorated with golden ornaments.

It was the gift he had promised, but presented to her only after he had first licked and sucked her to a state of desperation, that left her feeling like she would start crying if she didn’t get him inside her fast.

“If this is a reference to Indiana, I’m not amused.”

He looked confused.

“What? Indiana? No, I… Look, it’s not just any kind of dildo, it’s…”

“Yes, I can see. It’s a corncob. And a big one I might add. If you think I’m going to stick that inside me, you are dead wrong, Chakotay.”

Usually, she was excited to try anything new with him, but the sight of the large, rugged item, no matter how flexible, safe, and designed for pleasure it was, did not look appealing. If she was honest, it looked mainly intimidating.

He studied her for a moment, then put the box away and pushed her gently down on the bed again.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Kathryn. Forgive me if I miscalculated.”

Letting go of the tense moment, she hauled him in for another kiss, the interruption forgotten, and enjoyed his hands continuing their travel over her skin and sliding between her thighs.

She loved to feel his long fingers inside her. Two was her favorite, three if she was really aching to be filled, like now.

At her husky plea, he pressed in a third digit, working her with skill gained by years of practice, building her towards the first climax. But a persistent thought kept piercing through her delight.

“Wait. Please, stop.”

She slipped his hand out of her and brought the soaked fingers to her lips, apologetic for another pause to his sweet efforts.

“Can I take another look at your gift?”

His face broke into a happy smile and he reached for the dildo, offering it to her for closer examination.

“Is there something I should know about this?”

He kissed her forehead, soothing and reassuring.

“I’d rather keep the details a surprise, Kathryn. If you let me, I’d like to use this on you.”

With a shiver of nervous excitement, she nodded and laid down, spreading her legs and breathing deep.

“I know how you like the feeling of fullness, Kathryn,” he murmured and snuggled next to her, beginning to spread her moisture with the tip of the cob. “But there are some things my fingers or cock can’t do.”

Despite the rough looks, the toy felt smooth, gliding along her slick folds soft as silk, rubbing her clit to a pleasant tingle.

“This may look big, but it adapts, so you don’t have to worry.”

To prove his point, he pushed the object an inch inside before pulling out and continuing to tease her clit.

The short moment of stretching was all she needed.

Parting her thighs further, she urged him forward, holding on to him to prepare for the invasion. Feeling the corncob move deeper, her eyes shot open and lips parted to a shocked gasp.

The whole stalk felt alive. Warm and pulsing in rhythm with her heart, molding to her size and massaging her walls with the intensity of a thousand little bumps on its surface.

“Chakotay…” she tried, gripping his shoulders harder, but the rest was lost to a choked moan as he thrust the toy deeper.

“Shh, you can tell me later. Now let me make you come.”

Howling out her ecstasy while he pumped the corncob into her wanton body, she climaxed arching up from the bed and digging her nails into his flesh with a clarity of never, ever questioning his offerings again.

 

* * *

 


	12. Pet Play

* * *

 

The black leather collar around her neck was enough to make him painfully hard.

Fastening the metal buckle and watching her breasts spill over the tightly bound corset, luscious and inviting as her chest moved up and down with her breathing, he wasn’t all that sure which one of them was in charge.

The tiny black ears and the fluffy tail plug only added to the play, meant for some harmless fun, but it was the collar and the leash attached to it that made him lose his calm.

She stayed on the floor in front of him as he had told her and observed closely as he took a hold on the lead to wrap it around his trembling hand.

Despite her submissive position, he wasn’t feeling very strong or dominant. The sight of her at his feet, dressed up and held down, seemed to drain every carefully made plan he had fantasized about and turned him into a pulsing, throbbing mess.

Dropping to her hands and knees, she stretched voluptuously and arched her back, pushing her tail-plugged ass up in the air and letting out a soft purr. The grin she gave him under her lashes was wicked.

Above all, she enjoyed the power and the way the scene was proceeding, it didn’t look like this night would change their dynamic for a second.

Not that he necessarily minded.

Then she padded closer and nuzzled her face between his thighs, rubbing her nose against his erection aching and straining in his pants.

“Would you like to fuck me now, Master, or should I suck you first?”

He was coming in her mouth before he even got the chance to call her ‘kitty’.

 

* * *

 


	13. Gags

* * *

 

What a delicious little package she turned out to be.

On her knees bent over on the bed, meters and meters of rope crisscrossing her naked body, bound so tight she’d sure have some beautiful artwork on her skin later, she was wrapped up like a gift.

Maybe the ball gag was a bit exaggerated, but he had told her to stop talking.

Which she didn’t.

Sometimes, that woman didn’t know when to back off.

Now that he thought about it, she’d fallen silent even before he had ordered the gag from the replicator, her eyes widening at his remark that she needed to be tied and whipped without asking for permission.

She was so sweet when she was horny. Squirming in her seat with a hurt ego, humiliated and embarrassed, but unable to say she’d rather have that whipping sooner than later.

Just to let her know what was coming, he smacked her bare ass and watched how she closed her lids tightly, moaning into the gag.

Yes, this would do very nicely indeed.

Pressing between her shoulder blades, he leaned next to her ear and told her what a bad girl she’d been and that he’d have to teach her a lesson.

She was surprisingly quiet, almost obedient - until his palm made contact with her behind.

He didn’t hold back his strength but let his arm swing with everything he had.

On every strike, a muffled cry erupted from her throat, her whole body tensing and jerking at the impact. Hit after hit however, she grew more relaxed as she let go of the control and pride, and maybe even the pain. Accepting her place, at the mercy of his will.

And when he was done, he moved behind her and gripped her hips, pressed into her soaked cunt and fucked the last of her remaining senses into oblivion.

Considering the variety of choked sounds she let out, tears and saliva streaming down her cheeks, it seemed she had a lot to say to him.

But since her hands remained steady and open every second through their play, never even twitching, let alone closing into the fist they had agreed would signal him to stop and free her, he figured everything she mumbled was only gratitude for another glorious moment under his rule.

She could thank him later.

 

* * *

 


	14. Asphyxiation

* * *

 

The first time she asked him to choke her, he categorically refused.

Ending the discussion before it had even begun, he stated he would gladly do many things to her, but he could never risk her health or her life.

Years later, the thought still tormenting her, she brought up the topic again.

He tensed, sighed, and asked why.

Why did she want this? Why was it so important? What did she hope to gain that couldn’t be reached by safer means?

After hours and hours spent considering the request herself, explaining how she felt was still surprisingly difficult.

How could she describe something she had never actually experienced? How to find words for an idea that had come to her in a dream, as a symbol and a need without a clear form? How could she justify craving something so brutal, admit that the violence stirred a hunger deep inside her, awakening a longing too strong to resist?

He waited patiently while she stuttered and tried to find proper words for her thoughts, keeping his silence. Soon she gave up, forced upon her face a light smile to hide her embarrassment, and changed the subject.

Not long after this, he came to her on his own initiative. Regretful and ashamed, apologizing for being so inconsiderate and self-centered, so consumed by his fears that he didn’t really listen to her, didn’t hear what her heart was whispering to his.

The gentle fingers wrapping around her throat were not what she had fantasized about, the cautious fumbling to find the right place on the sides of her neck far from the passion she had dreamed of, and the hesitant squeeze too light and brief to accomplish what she had wished for.

And yet the sensation was there, right beneath the surface of inexperience and awkwardness, growing quickly once nourished, waiting to burst out and swallow her whole.

At that moment, she saw a new vision, clear as day.

Herself, spread wide, wrists and ankles tied to each bedpost. And him, hovering over her helpless body, both of his hands gripping her throat, fucking her harder than he ever had before.

With trembling lips, afraid of rejection, but strengthened by love, she voiced her wish.

A desire for him to take away everything; her will and sense of self, even her breath. To hold her and use her, bend her and break her. To make her forget time and space, lead her through pain into an ecstasy beyond this world.

Drawn to her heat, he drank in every word, the fire in her eyes making him finally understand and accept.

When she finished, he took her hands into his and, looking deep into her soul, he told her ‘yes’.

 

* * *

 


	15. Intercrural Sex

* * *

 

He wasn’t quite sure what exactly in the scene had got him so painfully turned on.

The setting of a 19th-century mansion was far too elaborate for his taste and her extravagant dress, no matter how delicious her breasts looked spilling over the tightly bound corset, was hard to handle.

Eventually, he had her on the dining room table, her skirts hitched up to her waist, and even though he couldn’t really see her face from behind the layers of fabric, her soft moaning indicated she was very much enjoying her romance novel inspired historical play.

He had no idea who Rhett was, but he was absolutely certain the guy would not have settled for thrusting between Scarlett’s thighs when her dripping pussy was only an inch away.

For some reason, refraining from penetration was crucial to her storyline, but after teetering on the brink of orgasm for what seemed like an eternity, he was ready to just rip her clothes off and take her on the floor.

Like holding her steady and making sure to brush over her clit on every move while sweating in his own outfit and keeping her dress out of the way wasn’t frustrating enough, he was also supposed to say something remotely appropriate for the scene.

“Kathryn, I mean Scarlett, I…”

One push too hasty and her ass slipped from the edge of the table, causing them both to come tumbling down to the floor, the fall cushioned by the cloud of fabric.

A string of colorful curses burst from his lips, but somewhere beneath the layers of chiffon, silk, and tulle, she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Kathryn, I swear to you, if I ever find the heart of your fucking femininity under this fucking skirt, I’m going to spear you with my flaming sword of pleasure and fuck you to... Oh, sweet lord, you feel amazing Kathryn!”

Never before had he climaxed in a woman who giggled hysterically all the way.

 

* * *

 


	16. Nipple Play

* * *

 

No matter how long he had known her, no matter how much he loved her, in many ways her pleasure was still a mystery to him.

Like her breasts.

Sometimes, gentle kneading and a few light kisses were enough, maybe one slow lick around a rosy nipple. But even a brush of his thumb could be too much, the skin too sensitive for her to enjoy his touch.

Her signals were always clear, though. She never left him guessing, but guided him forward, to places where his attention was needed more.

Other times, it seemed she couldn’t wait one minute to have him on her breasts, but threaded her fingers into his hair and directed his mouth to her chest, moaning her delight at the contact.

At such enthusiasm, he wrapped his lips around her soft flesh, sucked greedily and teased mercilessly, flicking his tongue over the hardened nipple and pulling the delicate skin with his teeth, again and again until her whole body trembled and she whimpered for more, please more, parting her legs and pulling his hand to her core, wanting him to feel the flood of her arousal.

If nothing else, these changes taught him that the sensations evoked by his actions were not consistent or the threshold between pain and pleasure always stable. As a result, he never made any assumptions about her needs until he knew for sure.

Because there were also days when no limits existed, and nothing seemed to be enough.

Those days, she waited for him with clamps and chains and heat in her eyes, urged him to treat her rougher and bite her harder, begged for him to pinch and pull and twist and scratch, until her beautiful breasts were marked red with his service and she came with tears on her cheeks and voice rasp from ecstasy.

Those days, he watched the intensity of her passion in horror and lust, saw his hands working as if in a dream, helping her reach the kind of peak she desired, and was reminded once again that she was not one woman but many, her body as complicated as her mind, and her pleasure a mystery he would keep trying to solve for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 


	17. Seduction

* * *

 

He used to always say that she did the seducing, but after such a long time, she can’t remember clearly.

Bit by bit, she recollects her scattered, dissolving memories.

The frequent touches on his chest. The caresses on duty, lasting too long to be professional. The smiles and the flirting, the innuendo, first subtle and then less so. The candlelight dinners at their quarters and shore leaves that were nothing less than getaways to freedom and intimacy. The conversations and confessions, seeking warmth and direction in the vast dark space they were bound to travel. The connection so strong that after every conflict and distance, they found their way back to each other, and eventually stayed there.

She didn’t seduce _him_ , though.

No. He was hers from the beginning.

But she did seduce herself, lured her stubborn, rational mind into accepting what her heart and body knew years before, from that very first touch on her bridge.

That by coincidence or fate, she had found a soul matching her own, a heart that would beat fiercely and loyally in rhythm with hers, a man she needed to hold on to through better or worse, for the full and happy life she was then blessed with, till death did them part.

 

* * *

 


	18. Role Reversal

* * *

 

Would it be so horrible if he cried?

So many times, he had tied her to the bed and enjoyed her helplessness, but being on the receiving end of that treatment was not what he had expected.

He had been so turned on when she had pushed him down on the mattress, her determination and roughness thrilling him much more than he had thought it would. Watching her tie each knot safe and secure, so focused on her task that she didn’t even look at him, had made him smile, still perceiving the change of roles as something harmless and exciting.

After that moment, the reality had gradually started to sink in.

The position was undeniably powerful. Hands above his head and legs spread out, not only was his body stretched in a way that was slightly uncomfortable but also left him open and defenseless.

A glimpse of insecurity crept into his chest.

Images of what he had done to her in that very same state came rushing to his mind uninvited. Suddenly nervous, he sought solace in knowing that in the end, he had always allowed her to come and she had always said she enjoyed his dominance.

Nevertheless, he was grateful she didn’t blindfold him like he often did to her. Instead, she let him watch her padding around the dimmed room gloriously naked, lighting candles to soften the scene.

Then her oiled fingers sent him flying and his hesitance faded.

Unable to move, he found his skin was more sensitive than usual. Even the slightest caress felt intense, electrifying even, but with growing frustration, he noticed that her touch never reached the parts where he needed her most.

The lack of direct stimulation didn’t lessen his arousal though, quite the contrary. Not able to control any of his pleasure made him soon pull on the ropes, blood roaring in his veins, demanding for more.

Right when he first moaned out his passion, she stopped.

Without a word, she left him and went to order coffee, sat down on the chair further away, leaned back and enjoyed her beverage like she had lost all interest in him.

Humiliation surged through him hot and sharp.

He was bare in every sense of the word, his cock throbbing to have her, his need visible in all frail vulnerability. The seconds he waited, not knowing what would happen next, were seconds in hell.

“I love you, Chakotay. Patience,” she muttered, still not looking at him.

Would it be so horrible if he cried?

He swallowed and tried to calm his racing heart, but managed to provoke himself into a fantasy of a quick release the tightly bound ropes did not allow, bringing his erection to a painful hardness.

Eventually, she put down her cup, and something in the sound made him tense.

She walked to him with slow, steady steps, her soft eyes never leaving his, the small smile on her lips signaling she knew exactly what she was doing to him. Gone was the earlier gentle concern, replaced with a glow of power she was now ready to use.

With a firm focus on his pleasure, she caressed his face and trailed over his body, cupping his balls and stroking his length. Her mouth still warm from the coffee, she kissed him deeply, then moved down and wrapped her lips around him, beginning to suck with an intensity that made his toes curl.

Maybe, if he’d known she would stop before the peak, if he’d known how long she would still make him wait, then maybe he wouldn’t have yielded to her so willingly and thoroughly.

Maybe he would have withheld some of his rapturous moans, his declarations of love, his desperate pleas for her to let him come.

None of his sincerity had any effect on her. She showed no mercy, but continued to tease him and arouse him, with skill and time, backing away from the brink of orgasm over and over again until his mind and body were his no more.

Only when he lay there in complete surrender, weak and trembling, tears escaping past pursed eyelids, with her name on his dry lips, did she finally climb on him and press down on his length in one smooth motion, bringing the salvation his whole being was aching for.

Nothing existed outside the sensation of her riding him, sweet and slow, whispering soothing words of reassurance that this time she wouldn’t stop, but would give him everything he craved for, all he deserved.

Every shred of control taken away, he could feel his climax approaching in splendid accuracy.

The tensing in his abdomen, his balls contracting into a hard knot, making him hold his breath until that final thrust had him crying out at the force of the hot flood erupting deep from in his groin, rushing through his cock, and bursting into her body, filling her with his essence, his life, his love.

Would it be so horrible if he cried?

 

* * *

 


	19. Public

* * *

 

Kathryn leaned against the railing on the balcony of their new apartment, the sunshine warm on her face and Chakotay’s form strong and solid behind her.

Unpacking had been an unhurried delight, peppered with sweet kisses and touches promising a memorable first night. The tension had been growing all day into an ache between her thighs and an impatience to wait until evening.

She hummed with pleasure as his lips nibbled her earlobe and continued along her jawline, down to her neck. Smiling, she pressed closer to him, thrilled at his hand sneaking beneath her loose shirt and beginning to caress her passion into full flames.

Lids heavy, she looked down at the park and the people there, some busy getting to their destination but most simply enjoying the beautiful summer day. Their balcony wasn’t too high up and she was sure if someone glanced at their direction, they would immediately understand the intimacy taking place.

The thought only added to her arousal.

His hands moved to open her jeans and she held her breath at his audacity. The weak voice of modesty in her head faded to the glorious feel of his hand sliding between her thighs and his soft growl next to her ear at finding her helplessly wet.

“Chakotay, we should go inside,” she murmured without much conviction and opened her legs to give him better access.

His laughter rumbled low and sensual down her spine.

“Why?”

She was well on her way to climax under his talented fingers and moaned her agreement, thinking he had a very good point.

They were back on Earth, they were alive. She was at the peak of her happiness with her newlywed husband and if she so wanted, she could damn well have some harmless midday fun with him on the balcony of their home.

She reached back to pull down his pants and he slid inside her in one smooth motion, beginning a steady thrusting while continuing his attention to her clit.

Biting back her moans, she held on to the railing, pushing her hips back to meet his, feverish to find release after a long day of waiting for him.

The wet sounds could hardly reach the ears on the street and, aware of the public scene, both suppressed their moans. But at the increasing pressure, she couldn’t help her eyes drifting shut and her head falling back, her mind sinking deep into ecstasy.

Somehow, he was sensible enough to muffle his groan into her hair as he jerked and shuddered.

She, however, was flying high with her approaching orgasm, blissfully oblivious of her surroundings, focused only on his wondrous cock moving in and out of her, hissing at him to fuck her harder.

Later, when she had escaped behind closed doors sure she could never show her face anywhere again, he told her that he did try to hush her. Not that it mattered, because the result remained.

At her crest, she greeted the world below with a long, loud cry bursting deep from her throat, crisp and clear, an unrestrained howl that soon became a legend in the neighborhood.

 

* * *

 


	20. Dirty Talk

* * *

 

‘Are you available later this evening, Captain?’

The message appearing on the console between their command chairs brought an instant smile on her face. Not to draw attention, she kept her focus on the small screen, even though she could feel his eyes on her.

How sweet.

Bothering to send her such a formal inquiry was charming, almost like courting, and rather flattering, especially given that they had been sneaking into each other’s quarters for quite some time now.

The next message came encrypted.

‘Have I told you lately how good you taste? I can’t wait to have you on your back, legs wide open so I can…’

A fierce blush crept across her cheeks. Horrified someone might accidentally see the vulgarities she was reading, she deleted the message before even reading it through.

If he had still sat beside her, she would have given him a very stern look.

This was completely out of line.

And sexy as hell.

Officially, he was busy helping in engineering most of the day, but somehow, he managed to keep sending her notes that grew cruder and more shameless towards the end of their shift.

‘I wonder if you’d get down on your knees for me tonight? I could sit on the couch, stroking myself and watching you crawl to me and take me into your mouth, your big blue eyes locked with mine as you suck me all the way through orgasm, swallowing every drop of my cum and licking me clean in the end.’

Soon enough, she learned to retreat to her ready room to read.

‘Keep your uniform on until I get there. All day I’ve been thinking about undressing you while keeping my own uniform on, bending you over the table and taking you with one hand in your gorgeous hair and the other holding your wrists behind your back. I want to fuck you like you’re nothing but my fantasy, mine to use until you cry out nonstop at my cock stabbing your wet pussy.’

She couldn’t resist the need to touch herself when the next message came.

‘You know how you’ve been dreaming about double-penetration? I think I found a way to make that happen without us having to go to the holodeck. It gets me so damn hard imagining that even as soon as tonight, I could be pushing inside your tight cunt while your ass is already filled, sharing you with…  - File incomplete -’

Fingers still on her clit, she darted up from the chair.

“Computer, locate Commander Chakotay!”

 

* * *

 


	21. Food Play

* * *

 

“Isn’t this just a waste of good tequila, Chakotay?”

The liquid ran abundantly over her breasts and his mouth followed its trail in long, lavish licks. With a satisfied sigh, she slid her fingers into his hair.

“Not a waste, this is my sacrifice. My offering at the altar of your divine body.”

She smiled at his silly worship, hoping he was too focused on his task to notice.

The alcohol seemed to have the delightful capability of bringing out the poet in him, another manifestation of the passion in his soul, and she was more than happy to be the object of such lovely adoration.

After the strawberries nibbled from her toes, the chocolate sauce licked from her thighs, and the whipped cream sucked off her breasts while listening to the detailed descriptions of the miracle she was, her mind was in a pleasant whirl and her skin maybe sticky but also tingling all over from his attention.

More warm liquid streamed on her stomach and he moved to drink from her navel, one hand left caressing her breast. Considering he had only one hand to use since the other held tight to the bottle, he was surprisingly efficient.

“And this right here…”

He poured the rest of the liquor on her mound and set the bottle aside, then bowed at the juncture between her thighs.

“…this is my temple, my vestibule, my gateway to heaven.”

In any other situation, she would have slapped him for such clichés, but the warm flood washing over her folds, soothed by his tongue curling over and around every millimeter of her slit, pushing deep inside and lapping the nectar from her like she was the bread and wine he would die without only draw a series of rapturous moans from her throat.

“You’re so beautiful, Kathryn, have I told you that?” he murmured against her clit. “You… intoxicate me.”

Her fingers were still gripping the sheets, her mind floating in a haze of desire.

“I do believe that’s the tequila, Chakotay,” she managed to breathe.

With a low growl, he got up and covered her body, bringing upon her his strength and weight and rock-hard cock pressing against her entrance, and she sighed with contentment.

“Do you feel that, Kathryn? You do that to me, nothing else.” His lips were soft against hers. “Now please, may I enter your church, my love?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Yes, Chakotay. You may enter.”

 

* * *

 


	22. Threesome

* * *

 

“So tight... She’s so fucking tight. I don’t think I can last very long.”

“Do not come, Mike, that’s an order. This is for her.”

Held between the two strong men, she heard their voices next to her ear, but the words still came as if from a distance, behind a fog.

The sensations created at her core were all she could focus on, the surrounding world washed away by the currents of intense pleasure, rising and falling with the slow moves of penetration within her.

For so very long, this moment had remained a dream, a persistent but unrealistic vision too bold and too selfish to ever be, brought up only in perfect solitude and savored in secret.

Then one night, lying in her lover’s arms, bathing in the sweet afterglow where everything seemed possible, she found the courage to express that fantasy.

To her surprise, he didn’t find such a scene strange or unthinkable. Instead, he confessed he had shared that passion before and could maybe find a way to gift it to her too.

From the beginning, the experience was so much more than she could have ever imagined.

One pair of hands was familiar.

They curled around her body from behind and prepared her with sure, long strokes over her belly and breasts, briefly wrapping around her throat and descending back down between her legs. They sought out her pulsing nub while gradually pushing another lubed finger into her anus, simultaneously relaxing her and stretching her, helping her tight muscle to open for him.

The other touch was new to her, thrilling in his nervous arousal.

Adoration in his eyes, he kissed her like she was sacred, caressed her like he was violating some law, despite her clear invitation. Understanding and accepting, she smiled and opened for him too, opened her arms for his wide chest, her mouth for his questing tongue, and her thighs for his length to slide inside.

Their voices blended together into a soft chorus, breaths of three seeking a common rhythm. The hands on her skin gripped and clenched, tensed and trembled, striving to maintain control over instinct and lust.

Hard as steel, the two cocks pressed slowly deeper into her body, relentless but patient beyond her hopes. Each move signaling that they would give her all the time she wanted, all the help she needed.

All she had to do was to allow herself into their care, trust them to lead the way, and give them what they expected – her absolute surrender and boundless ecstasy.

 

* * *

 


	23. Scars

* * *

 

“Tell me about this one, Chakotay,” she asks, touching the pale mark carved across his chest, longer and fuller than the others, and he smiles.

The story is familiar, told so many times the words flow like a song. Trailing the outlines of the scar with her finger, she lays her head on his shoulder and sinks into the richness of his voice.

Pulling her closer, he begins to describe an era of desperation and violence, a time of sacrifice and loss, and a young man’s passion to change the world or die fighting.

Like all the tales he has told over their years together, the events come to life before her in vivid detail, only this legend is true and built on pain, its wounds on both the soul and flesh persisting decades later.

She has never questioned why he hasn’t erased the mark, used the technology available to heal the damaged tissue and replace it with new skin. Just as the other symbol inked on his forehead, deciding to hold on to the scar needs no explanation.

Both are kept and carried with honor, to serve as a reminder of the past and an anchor to his roots. They keep alive memories that form an integral part of him, experiences that molded him into who he became, steps on his path leading to her and the peace in his heart he sought for so long.

So, time after time, she asks him to tell the story of a restless spirit who lost too much to ever forget, and when he finishes, she kisses first the memory and then the man.

And when she looks into his eyes, she sees the warrior, his strength and his passion, roused to life all over again.

 

* * *

 


	24. Leather

* * *

 

If she had been more specific about the surprise she had for him, he would not have been able to wait until evening.

Leather.

From head to toe, she was dressed in earth-colored leather, licking her curves like a second skin.

The outfit resembled those worn by the Maquis, but he was damn sure there had never been anything like this or the resistance would have been short-lived.

Her boots were laced tight around her ankles and calves. The pants hugging her figures made her legs look impossibly long and her waist so slim he could wrap his hands around it. Her breasts were caged under a vest two sizes too small, with a cleavage so generous his mouth watered at the sight. Even her hair was braided with leather strings, binding her wild tresses.

She was every man’s fantasy brought to life, yet her expression was uncertain.

“So, what do you think, Chakotay?”

“Could you maybe, ummm… turn around, Kathryn?”

Following his request, the crown of her choice of clothing came to his view like the sun emerging from golden clouds.

The perfect round globe of her gorgeous behind, clad in leather so tight he could see the stretch of the material.

He wiped the corner of his mouth and adjusted the twitching erection in his pants, rubbing it a few times to ease some of the pressure.

The glorious sight was hidden from him as she stared at him again, but the vision remained on his retinas, keeping his mind occupied.

“Chakotay?”

She was simply too sexy to undress. No, she needed to wear that outfit for as long as possible. He would just have to find other ways to enjoy this treat.

First, he itched to dig his fingers into the flesh of her leather covered ass. At the same time, he could bury his face between her breasts and feast on her soft, fragrant skin to his heart’s content. The second she would moan, he would pull her over his lap and hold her there, head down, ass up in the air, and begin a generous spanking, savor the sound of his palm smacking her clothed buttocks. And last, he could push her down to her knees and free his cock, guide her mouth to him and let her suck him while he steered her pace by gripping that braided hair.

He shivered at the visual, blood rushing in his ears.

“You need to say something, Chakotay.”

“Listen to me very carefully, Kathryn. Come and stand here, between my legs…”

 

* * *

 


	25. Olfactophilia (Scent)

* * *

 

A part of her noticed his scent the moment he materialized on her bridge.

She took one deep breath as her palm came to touch his chest. Only one breath to center her thoughts and take control of the delicate situation threatening to escalate, and a shiver moved down her spine.

Another inhale, and her whole being shifted towards the origin of the sensation that made her nostrils flare and lids flutter.

Regaining composure to meet his stare took quite an effort. At the eye contact, a definite surge passed between them, but she hoped he would interpret that chemistry as a claim of power and authority.

From there on, she had plenty of time to analyze the unexpected and highly distracting quality in her new first officer.

He smelled damn good.

Without conscious thought, she found herself breathing deeper in his proximity, leaning closer than necessary when speaking with him, making sure to share the lift with him.

Separating the essence of him from all the other faint scents around her wasn’t easy, but once she recognized it, the memory stayed, filling her dreams, derailing her thoughts, drawing her near.

She recalled Mark having a pleasant scent too, and Justin, god yes, even after so many years she could still remember the smell of his skin.

But Chakotay, he was intoxicating.

She tried not to think too closely about why she was comparing her second-in-command to her former and current fiancées but considering she would be spending every day next to him, the situation was bordering on ridiculous and needed to be fixed.

In time, she would surely stop gazing at his full lips, the tattoo on his forehead she found strangely captivating, and his dark eyes that sometimes seemed to pierce right through her. But how could she protect herself from his scent when its effects bypassed her awareness and went straight to her core instead?

A few weeks later, she was pleased to have made two promising discoveries, two means that could enable her to stay close to him and still focus solely on her mission.

Busy days dealing with life-threatening crises – and the scent of strong coffee.

No doubt the Delta Quadrant would take care of keeping her mind occupied. And as for the other, well, she would just always have to keep a cup of coffee nearby.

 

* * *

 


	26. Smiles/Laughter

* * *

 

“Boobs or bottom? Choose, Kathryn.”

She looked at his face, lit up with excitement, and then the numerous colorful jars of shining glitter on the table and sighed.

“It’s your birthday. Whichever pleases you more.”

As she settled to lie face down on the table she smiled against her better judgment.

If this was what made him so happy, why not. Trying to come up with suitable gifts was difficult enough and he had downright asked.

Her skin prickled at the touch of the cool gel he applied a generous amount all over her backside, but soon his hands warmed her into a state of relaxation.

This wasn’t the first experiment brought to their private moments. In fact, their love life had turned out much more exciting and adventurous than she had ever dreamed. With two creative, open minds, candlelight dinners and holodeck programs were only the beginning.

Why should a sand-painting with glitter on her behind be so different?

The tickling on her buttocks brought her back to the present.

“No clenching, Kathryn!”

His firm order made her burst into laughter and he kneeled down to kiss her.

“Seriously, now I have to start again. Please try to stay still.”

Holding her giggle, she promised.

He was so sweet, concentrating on his artwork designed on her ass. Surely the strangest birthday present she had ever given.

True to her word, she held still and quiet while he worked, even as some of the glitter strayed between her cheeks and she wondered how long it would take for it to be cleaned off.

When he was done, he stepped back with visible pride.

“Could I ask for one more thing, Kathryn?”

“Sure, since we’re already this far.”

With a mile-wide grin, he fetched a paddle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

Picturing the next minutes wasn’t difficult and her lips curled to share the joy sparkling in his eyes.

“Swing away, my dear. Happy birthday.”

The steady smacks on her butt send the glitter flying high, scattering around the room like fireworks, glimmering in all the colors of the rainbow.

But what she remembered best of that moment was the ridiculous lightness in her chest. The feeling of flying with him among the splendor, careless and free, like no gravity or darkness could ever take her away again.

 

* * *

 


	27. Against a Wall

* * *

 

“I don’t care how many admirals are waiting for us, Chakotay. You’ve been away for two months and I want you inside me now.”

Meeting her heat with his own, he groans his approval, cupping her face to kiss her open mouth, and pushes her back against the nearest wall while her fingers make haste with his belt.

The urgency to feel his skin against hers overwhelms her every time.

The weeks apart pass with relative ease. Days are full and she’s not alone. In sleep she drifts to his side of the bed, seeking his warmth, but awake, she goes on like his absence doesn’t affect her, carefully ignoring the darker currents just beneath the calm surface.

But when he walks through the front door and drops his bags in the hallway, she can’t get to him fast enough.

Shameless in her longing, she wraps her arms around him and presses close, kisses him before his hello.

Her hands move over him, feel his solid body beneath his clothes, making sure he really is here, healthy and whole.

Smiling, he accepts her ritual, understands what she has never put into words. How little would be left of her if she never heard his voice again.

In the wake of the relief comes a more primitive hunger, an ache for him to claim her, fill her, mark her as his. The desire washes over her, absolute and uncompromising, and she pushes down his pants, welcoming his hardness with open thighs.

No more is needed, only this.

Her legs around his hips and his length sliding into her, eyes locked in an oath of passion. Their bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time, chasing the crest where she cries out his name, clenches and shudders, and takes him with her.

Everything that can’t be put into words expressed in minutes, their bond renewed in seconds.

 

* * *

 

 

 


	28. Striptease

* * *

 

The exotic show wasn’t the first he’d seen in his life, but he was certainly acting like it.

A little uncomfortable witnessing this gorgeous woman dance and undress before an audience, guilty for getting so turned on that he needed to keep his hands on his lap even in the darkened room.

But even though the fiery creature on stage was undoubtedly enticing, and her curves gradually exposed from under her layered outfit a pleasure to watch, the real reason for his arousal was sitting next to him.

Attending the dinner with her had been torture enough.

Despite the dress she was wearing, showing more of her skin than he had ever seen, and the flirting that seemed more loaded than before, he had somehow managed to keep up the appearance of a decent first officer. But when the nature of the entertainment for the evening had been revealed, he’d lost all ability to communicate with her.

The moment the dancer walked under the spotlights, he realized she looked like Kathryn. And once the thought had hit him, he couldn’t get rid of it.

Maybe her hair was slightly longer, caressing the top of her buttocks in the whirl of motion, but the auburn shade was almost precisely like hers, forming a familiar contrast to the bright blue of her eyes. And as she sprinkled her clothes one by one, revealing her petite frame fueled with passion and strength, so similar to the woman he called his captain, he had to consciously stop himself from sucking in a breath.

Without asking, his mind pictured her on the stage instead of this woman.

Bending backward with her sinfully long leg high up in the air, she then slid slowly down to the floor thighs wide, baring her body to his view and imagination. Crawling on her hands and knees towards him, the flirt in her eyes was aimed only at him.

The rush in his veins grew along with the music, his erection pulsing with every beat.

In his mind’s eye, he could see her on his bed. Down on all fours, arching her back as he’d run his fingertips along her spine and over her ass. Would she voice her impatience until he gripped her hips, moan out her pleasure when he thrust inside? Would she tell him how good his cock felt and beg for more, would she howl his name when she came?

Lost in fantasy, he snapped back to reality only when the music faded, the lights went off, and he heard a soft, low whisper close to his ear.

“Think she was good? You should see me, Chakotay, and you’d have more to take care of than a hard-on.”  

 

* * *

 


	29. Massage

* * *

 

She could easily hide her pain from most people, but she had rarely been able to deceive her first officer. He didn’t usually confront her directly, he chose his battles well, but his dark eyes made it clear that he saw past her pretense.

Like repeatedly denying her persistent headache, stretching on to the third week.

In silence, his gaze followed her suffering, witnessed her concentration begin to falter, her decision making slowing down, and her mood turning edgy and tense. When she finally snapped at him on the bridge without much reason, she knew the limits of his tolerance had been reached.

So, when he came to her in the evening and simply told her to get undressed, lay face down on her bed and wait for him, she didn’t object. If he’d chosen to act, she was wiser to surrender right away than to turn his request into an argument.

His voice had been compassionate, if also a bit teasing at the opportunity to say such things to his captain, but she trusted him to be discreet. Since the Doctor had no cure for her, only momentary reliefs with hyposprays and massages too mechanical to be relaxing, accompanied by lectures on coffee consumption and the importance of sleep, she was ready to try anything.

Not that the idea of Chakotay’s hands on her skin was unpleasant.

For two seconds, she stood by her bed in the dimmed room and wondered if she should reconsider the idea. Then she threw away her hesitance along with every single piece of her clothing and slipped under the sheets.

True to his promise, he made her feel divine.

With unhurried, firm moves, he spread the warm oil from her fingers to her scalp and all the way down to her toes. Only when she had melted into a pool of sheer bliss, he began to work her cramped muscles, rolling and kneading over her back and shoulders in waves varying the force and tempo according to the anguish in her moans.

Somewhere along the hour, the pain gradually subsided and gave room to more pleasant thoughts. Her awareness drifted to the richness of sensations his hands created, his dedication and skill, but also his gentle recognition of the delicate circumstances.

Even though he passed intimate parts of her body, there was nothing insinuating in his touch, only a neutral, almost clinical, focus on her muscles and joints.

Somehow, it was exactly that lack of sensuality that sent her mind into a spin.

This wasn’t just anyone, this was Chakotay. His soft touch on her neck and hair, his fingertips brushing the sides of her breasts, his palms pressing so low on her back he was practically massaging her buttocks.

It also dawned on her how much intimate knowledge he had gained in one evening.

He knew now that she was ticklish behind her knee and above her hipbone. He knew the amount of pressure she found pleasurable and her threshold for pain. He knew the shape of nearly every part of her body because even if the room was dark, he had surely drawn a clear picture of her in his mind.

Eventually, his touch proceeded from healing to relaxing and she found out how efficiently he was able to utilize his newly discovered information.

His pace was just right, lulling her into a trance, his strength signaling her that she was both controlled and cared for. And as the erotic images started pouring into her mind, arousal pulsing between her thighs, she realized he was creating those sensations deliberately as well.

Yet there was no demand, no assumptions.

When she reached the point where her sigh first turned into a moan of desire, he eased his caress, bringing her gently back before she was too far gone.

For a moment, she froze at the brink of humiliation, horrified for letting out such obvious proof of the need she’d kept carefully hidden, but his hands continued steady and assuring that nothing had changed.

Without deliberation, she had granted him a tremendous power over her. Rendering her to a vulnerable, defenseless state, he could have used that opportunity any way he chose.

“Do you want me to continue, Kathryn?”

His voice was soft, but she could hear the tension and restraint behind the words.

The question held open two doors. One back to the safe and predictable professional relationship that she had come to rely upon, the other to a world unknown.

She could thank him and wish him good night.

She could finish what he had started and bring herself to orgasm when he’d left.

She could.

 

* * *

 


	30. Swallowing

* * *

 

Sinking his cock into her mouth was pure heaven.

Not just the sensation of being enveloped with liquid heat, but her.

She always welcomed him with such enthusiasm, admired his erection like a prize she’d won, stroked and licked and sucked him from tip to base and back again like she would gladly spend the entire evening on the task.

Stretching out on the bed and tilting her head back over the edge held special meaning to them both. In that position, she gave herself to him completely, turned herself into an object for his pleasure, to be used as he wanted.

But as beautiful as she was lying there waiting for him, smiling and licking her lips, provoking his need into a storm, the sight also terrified him.

Fucking her face was tempting in a way nothing else was. The feeling of her throat contracting around him was so overwhelming that he had to struggle not to drown in the sensation. No matter how painfully desirable she was like that, the position left her vulnerable, his power over her absolute. Keeping himself in check was a necessity, his utmost responsibility, to make sure she stayed safe.

Repeatedly, she asked him to let go of his restraint, but how could he? If he did as she requested, if he gave in to his urge to thrust into her fragile throat without constant recognition of her state, how could she even survive his passion?

She said she was strong and knew what she was capable of, and he didn’t question her for a second. From everything else they had indulged in together, he also knew she enjoyed danger, pain, and the closeness of death. At her wish, he gladly took her there, but only if he was in control from the beginning to the end.

Persistent in making her fantasy real and set to prove his fears wrong, she began to guide him.

Each time, she reached for his buttocks and pulled him deeper into her mouth. And each time, he learned a little more. How far he could push, how long she could hold her breath, where the point was at which he needed to withdraw.

Gradually, the thought of climaxing down her throat didn’t seem all that impossible.

So, as he now stands and leans to the bed like he’s done a hundred times before, staring at the obscene view of his engorged cock, veins bulging and glistening with her saliva, pumping in and out of her mouth, and feels himself slide away from reality, he suddenly knows.

Her hands on his hips are steady and secure, assuring him he doesn’t have to worry, she’s got him. Whispering his plan to her, he grips her shoulder and waist, and surrenders to the pressure building in his groin.

Balls tight and churning, pleasure prickling along his thighs, he chants her name like a lifeline. Her throat flexes at the size of him, her breasts bounce in rhythm with his thrusts, her strong and generous body accepting him without conditions.

The violent force of his orgasm takes him by surprise and he cries out in desperate ecstasy but his eyes never leave her. He simply has to see.

He has no idea how she does it, how it’s even humanly possible, but she does. Every lunge deep into her throat and every spurt of hot seed shooting from his cock, she takes and swallows, again and again until his last shudders come and go.

Not quite trusting himself enough to move, he only pulls slightly back and sways on trembling legs. He watches her as she licks clean the rest of the mess he’s made, then lifts her eyes, looks at him and smiles.

He didn’t think he could love her any more than he already did.

 

* * *

 


	31. Together

* * *

 

Her face was pale, eyes hollow, every breath burdened with defeat. Yet there she stood, naked and vulnerable, holding a rope and a whip, asking him to make her forget.

The hardship and losses weighed heavy on his shoulders too, but seeing her so lost, so broken, was almost too much to bear.

During the past months, their evenings together had grown rare and had often been interrupted by the needs of the ship. Even though he knew she hadn’t been taking proper care of herself, working too hard and replacing meals with coffee, nothing in her demeanor had signaled she wasn’t coping in her own way.

Now he realized they should have made a greater effort for more time together.

They had walked this line before, using sex as a tool not only for pleasure and closeness, but also for distraction and escape, for relieving stress and seeking balance. Inflicting pain to the outside to heal the wounds inside.

But never like this.

Never when she was barely holding herself together, knees weak and shoulders hunched, her blank stare unable to conceal she had grasped this solution as her last means to find the strength to live on to the next day.

The word never left his lips. She saw the refusal on his face, deep down maybe expecting it, hoping it, but when he stepped to her, she shot her disappointment at him anyway.

Fists slamming into his chest, she spat out words of hatred and contempt, helplessness and frustration channeled into rage, meant to hurt him like she was hurting.

Unwavering, he let the storm inside her run its course, accepted her outburst for what it was: a flood of suppressed emotion seeking a way out, grief and guilt suffocating her spirit until they were released. In the end came her tears and quietly he took her into his arms.

“Whatever you want tomorrow, I’ll be happy to give you. Tonight, I only want to hold you close to me.”

Out of kindness and a loving heart, he left unmentioned that he believed she needed that exact same thing. To be soothed and cared for, assured that everything in the world was not hers to control, not all horror hers to prevent. That despite the outcome, her struggle for good was enough.

By the time he felt her curling against him in a peaceful dream, bathed and fed, kissed and caressed, his own heart felt lighter too.

She was a survivor.

She didn’t really _need_ him to pull her to her feet.

But together, everything was so much easier.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been one hell of a month. An amazing writing exercise, a challenge for my creativity, and a way to step out of my comfort zone. Thank you all for reading and leaving comments and kudos. 
> 
> And thank you Killermanatee, for more than you’ll ever know. Sometimes, life throws unexpected gifts on your path. You have been one on mine<3
> 
> Stay safe, be nice, and have fun;) Me, I’m going to sleep for a month.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [From the Soles of Her Feet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202582) by [devovere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devovere/pseuds/devovere)




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